


5, 4, 3,  2, 1

by bothromeoandjuliet



Series: Spooky Times Jeronica Week (Wicked Jeronica) [1]
Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Movie Night, Panic Attacks, Triggers, canon based trauma, seriously if you are triggered by talk of panic attacks do not read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 07:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21193985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bothromeoandjuliet/pseuds/bothromeoandjuliet
Summary: In which the Core Four plan a movie night, Archie and Betty are late, and trauma is trauma-no matter how shiny your pearls are.





	5, 4, 3,  2, 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oneshot 1/7 for Spooky Times Jeronica Week! I'm so excited to be participating again and I am also excited to see how much (if at all) I've improved! The prompt is Trash Movie.
> 
> Comments are welcomed and greatly appreciated!! <3<3<3

“Guys, guess what; Veronica has just had the best idea ever!” Betty exclaimed, slapping her lunch tray down onto the table, with Veronica following close behind.

“Has she figured out how I’m going to be able pay for my new break pads?” Archie asked,

“Where I put my lens cap?” Toni; over her shoulder as she walked to where Sweetpea and Fangs were sitting, and then Jughead, dragging his eyes from his computer screen before joining in, “If art for arts sake truly exists?”

“Haha, you’re all very funny.” Veronica deadpanned, tearing the plastic wrapper off her fork. “What ever would I do without you guys ribbing on me, bla-bla-bla. Do you wanna know what my idea was or not?”

“I’m sorry ‘Ronnie. Of course we want to know; don’t we Jughead?”

“I’m tingling with anticipation.”

Veronica, rolling her eyes at Jughead’s sarcastic tone, but without any real frustration at his words, began to speak, only to be interrupted by Betty’s overeager voice.

“Veronica has invited us all over to the Pembrooke on Saturday for a movie night! We’ll have pizza and popcorn and movies and ice-cream; it’s going to be so much more fun then going to another one of Cheryl’s keggers.”

“And your mom’s fine with us coming over, ‘Ronnie?”

“Yes, Archie, of course. I promised her that it would just be the four of us, yes, including you Jughead,” in response to Jughead’s raised eyebrow, “so since she’s going to be visiting some of our New York friends this weekend anyway, she’s completely up for it.”  
  
For a moment the whole table was silent, with Archie and Betty exchanging flirty glances that they thought no-one else could see and Jughead ruminating over Veronica’s words. She’d mentioned her mom being away more and more recently, and in Jughead’s eyes it was starting to look dangerously like a pattern. Not that he was worried about Veronica feeling lonely, what with cheerleading and Pops and whatever else she has going on in her day to day life he doubted that Veronica had time for that…Still, there was something about her expression that he didn’t like.

“So V, what should we do for movies? Did you have some in mind or should we bring our own?”

“Well,” Veronica started, smiling at Betty’s question, “I was thinking that we could go full 80s throwback, you know, Heathers, Dead Poets Society, The Breakfast Club—“

“Ah, no.” Jughead interrupeds, shaking his head emphatically, “No way Veronica. It’s October, the creepiest month of the year! Now is the time for horror, creeps and chills, vampires and ghouls! If we’re having a movie night, we have to do it right.”

“Juggie!” Betty admonished before turning and squeezing Veronica’s shoulder. “Jughead does have a point though V. Horror movies would be the more _traditional _choice; but since it’s your party, you should get the final say, of course.”

“I’ll watch whatever.” Archie put in, offering Veronica a reassuring smile from across the table.

“No, no. Jughead’s right, it’s October, it would be silly not to indulge in the macabre. But lets stick to the more supernatural horror, okay? I feel like the whole serial killer, purely insane horror is just so overdone lately.”  
  
The other three exchanged questioning glances, then nodded.

“Absolutely, V. You got it.”

* * *

“Archie, you and Betty promised that you you would meet me at Veronica’s at seven. It’s seven-fifteen now; where are you guys?”

“Sorry Jug.” Archie’s voice, echoing through Jughead’s phone speaker, didn’t sound apologetic at all, and Jughead fought the urge to role his eyes. “We got caught up while we were doing homework and lost track of time, but we’re headed to the pizza place now, and after it’s done and we’ve grabbed the picked up the ice-cream we’ll head right over, I swear! Why don’t you just head in now and keep ‘Ronnie company until we get there. I’m sure she’s wondering were we all are.”

“Yeah, yeah. But you both owe me.” Jughead grumbled, ending the call as he stepped away from his motorcycle towards the Pembrooke.

“Oh, hey, Jughead.” Veronica said, stepping back to let him through the door, “Aren’t Betty and Archie with you?”

“Well they were supposed to be but they’re running a little late so I just came up. That’s okay, right?”

“Um, yeah, it’s fine. You should go ahead and pick out a movie while we’re waiting. Do you want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Nodding, Veronica turned to the kitchen while Jughead went into the living room, where the tv was already on and waiting, peering about curiously as he did so.

The apartment was spotlessly clean; so clean that, if it hadn’t been for the tv and the open copy of Jane Eyre that was lying on the coffee table, Jughead would have had trouble believing that anyone really lived there. It was quiet too, with only the sounds of Veronica in the kitchen bouncing around the massive space. Was this how all of Veronica’s nights in were when her mother wasn’t at home? The thought disturbed Jughead—he certainly wouldn’t have been about to stand it but then again, maybe this was just how life was for the rich and famous.

Having snatched the tv remote and flopped down onto the couch, Jughead started flipping through Netflix’s horror section, stopping every now and again to read a summery, before finally stumbling on one that he liked the look of; a cheesy hour-long flick—a clear nock-off of the Halloween franchise. He started it and then glanced at his phone to see if Archie had texted. He hadn’t.

“So why are Betty and Archie late exactly?” Veronica asked, stopping short as she entered the room and exclaiming, “Jughead, what are you doing?”

“Archie said that they got caught up doing homework, but I doubt that’s what it really was. So since they’re not here yet, I figured we could start something to tide us over.”

Glancing at the screen, Jughead, seeing that some blonde girl was refusing to go to a party because she wasn’t feeling well and was thus going to be forced to spend the night alone in a large house, bit back a laugh. Could they have used a more tired cliché?

“But isn’t it kinda rude to start without them? And this doesn’t really look like the sort of movie we decided on.”

“It’s only an hour long, and if they get here before it ends we can just stop it and look for something else.”

Veronica, hesitating by the edge of the couch, bit down hard on her lip without responding; so Jughead reached over with a sigh and pulled her to were he was sitting, dragging her down next to him on the couch.

“It wouldn’t kill you to go against Betty and Archie sometimes, you know, Princess.”

“I do go against them…sometimes.” shifting away ever-so-slightly so her thigh no longer rubbed against Jughead’s, “And don’t call me Princess, I’ve told you not to before.”

“Did you though?”

Veronica didn’t answer, but Jughead saw the muscles tighten in her jaw, and decided to let it go. The last thing that Betty and Archie needed to find when they showed up was Veronica and Jughead screaming at each other after all.

The movie continued; the cliché blonde’s friend left and then the cliché blonde took a cliché shower—complete with a gratuitously sheer shower curtain—and then answered a hilariously bad voice-over phone call. The phone call ended; the blonde—still only wrapping in a towel—traipsed about the big house, calling out; cut to a shot of a silhouetted man holding a gun, back to the blonde—still naked—and then the sound of gunfire; which left the blonde screaming and Jughead laughing.

Jughead felt Veronica stiffen as the shots continued, and soon after she stood up, muttering, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” answered Jughead, eyes fixed on the tv screen, were the blonde had just shut herself into a room with no exit.

About ten minutes later, with the blonde long-since dead and the main character of the film having been revealed to be a spunky, brunette reporter, who was attempting to discover the truth behind the blonde’s death, Jughead’s phone rang; Archie’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hey man, we got the pizzas, we’re at the store now and Betty can’t remember what type of ice-cream that ‘Ronnie wanted.”

“What?” Jughead exclaimed, irritated, “How are you guys still not here? How long does it take to pick up some pizzas?”

“Look Jug, I know, and we’re really, really sorry, but we’ll be able to get over there faster if you tell us what kind of ice-cream we’re supposed to get, okay? So just go ask ‘Ronnie.”

“Oh, for the love of…Fine, you know what, fine. Veronica?” Jughead called out.

Only silence answered him and so, pausing the movie, Jughead got up and said into the phone, “Hold on, I think she must be in the bathroom, so just give me a sec.”

He moved forward, passed Mr. Lodge’s former study, passed the partly open door of Veronica’s bedroom, down the hallway towards the bathroom and then halted and turned his head back towards Veronica’s door, where the tip of a shoe was just visible through the crack.

“Veronica?” he called again, walking up to the door and pushing it open, “Veronica, Betty needs to know—“

Jughead halted, the words in his throat cut off by the sight of Veronica’s body, sitting curled against the wall, quivering; and then let out a hurried whisper.

“Arch? I’ve got to call you back, alright?”

Jughead knelt down in front of Veronica. Her eyes, which had opened when he’d hung up on Archie, were panicked; staring at him and yet through him all at once.

“Veronica, I need you to focus on me; okay? Can you focus on me and my voice for me?”

“I—I don’t—Jugh-ead—I don’t know w-hats—happening—I can’t stop an-d—I can’t breathe—W-hy is this—ha-ppening?”

“You’re okay, Veronica, you’re having a panic attack, but you’re going to get through this. Now, is it okay for me to hold your hands?”

“Y-es."

Jughead reached forward, taking Veronica’s shaking hands in his and nodded reassuringly.

“That’s good, Veronica, that’s very good. Now, I want you to breath in for five seconds with me, okay? I’ll count for you; one, two, three, four, five…That is perfect, now can you let that air back out for me?”

“I ca-n’t—Jughead—you d-on’t underst-and—I—ca-n’t—I can’t!”

“Okay, okay, that’s alright…Veronica, I want you to tell me five things that you can see, right now, in this room, you got that?”

“I see a—a b-ed—and my dres-ser—and—and the wi-ndow and—Ju-ghead thi-s won’t hel-p—why won’t thi-s stop?” she broke off.

“It’s alright,” Jughead encouraged, rubbing his thumb over the back of Veronica’s knuckles, “You’re doing great, just keep going.”

“I—I see yo-u and—my—my ho-mewor-ke—“

“Alright, now tell me four things you can touch?”

“Tou-ch? Umm-m—I ca-n touch my sho-es—and—and the ca-rpet—and my sk-irt—a-nd you-r hands…”

“And how do my hands feel to you, Veronica?”

“Th-ey’re strong and—sof-ter then I—thou-ght—they would be.“

Jughead almost laughed at that, but the sight of his twitching lips sent the panic, which up till then had slightly calmed, back into Veronica’s eyes, so instead he hurriedly wiped it away and asked, “Can you tell me three things that you can hear?”

“My—brea-th—the—the clo-ck—in the ha-llway—and me—me tal-king.”

“And what about two things that you can smell Veronica? Can you tell me what you smell?”

Veronica hesitated, taking a deep breath in through her nose.

“I—I can smell my—my per-fume—and—and I can sm-ell the—the candle that I—I was bur-ning earli-er.”

“Okay, Veronica, last one. Tell me what you’re tasting right now.”

“Tasting?” Veronica asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, tasting…like—like what you drank when you were in the kitchen.”

“I—I had a glass of Pepsi…”

“And?”

“And it—it tasted cold? And sweet?’

“Cold and sweet; that’s perfect, Veronica. Would you try breathing again for me again now?”

Veronica nodded, took one, two, three, shaky breaths and then released them. Jughead sighed in relief; the quivering had stopped and her breathing seemed to be at least partially back to normal.

“Come on,” he said, lifting Veronica to her feet and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, “let’s go get you some water.”

Neither one said anything as they made their way to the kitchen. Jughead set Veronica gently onto one of the bar stools and hurried to fill a glass for her, while Veronica sat silently, staringat the countertop, her head supported by her hands. He gave her the water, waited for her to finish it, then filled it again; and it wasn’t until the last drop of the second glass was gone that Jughead ventured to ask what had caused the attack.

“It’s stupid, Jughead.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Veronica looked up at him after he said that, eyes suspicious, but mostly tired, and then continued.

“It’s just…during the election last year one of the enemies that my father had made…He tried to kill my mother and I, and my mom she—she killed him in self defense. And then I was poisoned by Penelope and we saw her kill Betty’s dad right in front of us and…I guess that I’ve just been a little stressed out when it comes violent movies or books or tv shows ever since then. It’s really dumb and pathetic, I know—“

“It’s not pathetic.” Jughead interrupted, “Veronica, that reaction…It’s perfectly normal for you to feel that way. That stuff…the horror genre…it’s just a trigger for you, that’s all. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Veronica looked away, shaking her head, then whispered, “You…you won’t tell Betty and Archie, will you?”

“Well—Veronica, they should—“

“Please. Jughead, I”m begging you not to tell them what happened tonight.”

Jughead’s eyes searched Veronica’s desperate face, and at the sound of a knock on the door, he nodded.

“Alright. I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.” said Veronica, smoothing her hair as she stepped down from the barstool; ready to greet Archie and Betty like nothing was wrong.

Jughead watched her go, then went to the living room, hastily flicking through Veronica’s Netflix queue, while the sounds of Betty and Archie’s voices began filling up his ears.

“We’re so, _so_ sorry that we’re late V.I t’s just one thing happened and then another, and then Jughead never called Archie back about the ice-cream so we just had to guess and—Oh hi Juggie!”

“Hey Betty, Arch."

“Hey man,” Archie replied as he followed Betty into the room, his arms filled with pizza, “Did you and ‘Ronnie find something for us to watch?”

“Yeah, about that…”

Jughead watched as Veronica entered the room, then settled into an easy smile and gestured towards the tv.  
  
“Jughead…that’s the Addams Family. I thought that you wanted more of a horror movie night.”

“And what is scarier then the realization that we’ve all lost our youthful innocence?”

Archie and Betty stared at him doubtfully for a few moments, then nodded in agreement.

“Okay, Jug.” said Betty, sitting down, “Whatever you want.”

* * *

“Thank you so much, again Veronica.” said Betty, giving Veronica one final hug, “You have no idea how fun this all was. A good night in was exactly what the doctor ordered.”

“Well, I’m so glad that you had a good time B. Now Archie, make sure that you get my girl home safe, okay?”

“Sure thing ‘Ronnie. You coming Jughead?”

“No, Veronica’s giving me the leftovers, so you two can go on ahead.”

Archie nodded, and with a chorus of goodbyes, both he and Betty disappeared, leaving Jughead and Veronica alone.

“I suppose I better get you those leftovers then.” Veronica said, turning to the kitchen with Jughead close behind.

The silence was awkward, and Veronica’s movements as she piled all the pizza into one container were awkwarder still. Jughead could feel his palms sweating, and he bit at his lip nervously, uncertain what to say.

“Thank you, Jughead. For what you did tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

“Me too.” Veronica sealed the container shut, then looked up at Jughead resolutely.

“I just—How did you know what to do?”

Jughead sighed, walking over and sitting down on one of the barstools, running a hand over his face.

“My dad used to have them sometimes. Panic attacks, I mean. Sorta’ a by-product of living in the same house you were abused in I guess.”

“Oh. Did the countdown thing help him too?”

“Yeah; it’s good for when your trying to recenter yourself. You should try it, if you ever feel like you’re going to have another one.”

Veronica nodded, then walked slowly over to where Jughead was sitting, stepping close enough to him that her skirt caught against the fibers of his jean covered knees.

“Veronica, what are you—“

“Shh, I’m trying to remember what the order was.” Veronica interrupted, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, and then opening them to stare into Jughead’s eyes.

“I can see your eye muscle twitching, and your beauty mark, and the black fibers in your hat, and the—the small flecks of green in your eyes.”

Jughead felt his face flush at the earnestness of Veronica voice and began to drop his head, only for it to be lifted back up by Veronica’s fingers, so he was left with no choice but to watch her as she continued.

“I can feel the stubble on your jaw, and the softness of your flannel,” dropping one hand to brush against his shirt, then up into his hair, pushing his beanie off his head, “and I can feel the silkiness of your curls, and I can feel your breath against my face.”

Veronica paused, waiting to see if Jughead would say anything, but he remained mute, watching her.

“I can hear the buzzing of the silence, and you breathing, and,” lowering her head down, pressing her ear against Jughead’s chest. “And I can hear your heart beating.”  
  
“Veronica…” Jughead murmured. Veronica pulled herself away from him, but her left hand kept cupping his jaw.

“Yes?”

“What so you smell?”

“I smell the pizza we had for dinner,” she laughed, “and I can smell your cologne, which is the cologne that I got you for Christmas last year.”

“And what—“ Jughead hesitated, let the silence grow as heavy as her could, “What do you taste, Veronica?”

Veronica leaned forward, closing the space between their mouths. Jughead’s hands, which up till then had remained hanging at his sides, snuck upwards, wrapping around Veronica’s body, which curled into his. He drank her in, separating his knees just enough for Veronica to slide in-between them.

They pulled away from one another, Veronica’s forehead dropping against his as she breathed out, “You. I taste you.”


End file.
